


One Hundred Years of Serenity

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [101]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-26
Updated: 2007-04-26
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1908060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Academy of the Light holds its 100th anniversary celebration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Hundred Years of Serenity

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting  
> My former betas: Alex and Ula
> 
> Thanks to Mali for inspiring their dance.  
> A special thank-you to all my friends for sharing our Arcadian dream.
> 
> Aikido references courtesy of [Wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aikido).

Quinn felt undercurrents of excitement within the usual serenity of the dojo when he and Ian arrived on Saturday night. After all, it was a big day for the dojo and its sensei, Master Yodama. The Academy of the Light had been established exactly one hundred years ago, starting as a jujutsu hall. Tonight was their celebration.  
  
A little initiate, trying not to run through the corridor, paused briefly to sketch them a bow. They bowed back with all due solemnity, saving their smiles until he disappeared into the training square.  
  
The theme for today was Ueshiba's own: "The Art of Peace," turning aggression aside with balanced countermoves. Quinn had grown up steeped in the philosophy and practice of the gentle warrior.  
  
It had been his great privilege and pleasure to help Master Yodama teach Ian this art. In their daily katas and meditations, upon waking and before sleeping, he had shown Ian the way of the spirit, and joined with him on the deep level they otherwise attained only during lovemaking.  
  
Walking more sedately than their little friend, he and his lad reached the Windfall training room a moment later, with its jungle of plants by the southern picture windows. Master Yodama gazed over at them, ancient eyes alight with joy. They knelt at the side of the mats, surrounded by other students. From five to seventy-five, all were fellow seekers on their journey.  
  
The first group of the exhibition was the jisou, the smallest children. The youngsters formed a circle on the mats, bowed, and started the Hatchling kata. Their new little friend grinned at them before his first arm movement, and they smiled back in delight.  
  
Little arms and legs waved at the fond faces watching. Though less skilled than the older students, the children were enchanting to watch, eyes shining in eager concentration. When the last tiny foot stilled upon the mat, cheers rang through the room while the young ones bowed.  
  
Quinn wished Ian had discovered aikido that early, as he himself had. He could imagine training his lad as they grew together under the indulgent care of Master Yodama. Though Ian loved gymnastics, it hadn't steeped him in spirituality and philosophy as aikido had.  
  
Fortunately, he had Ian as his partner in all things now. He caught his lad's eye, and tried to send his thankfulness for this gift. From the smile on Ian's face, he must have succeeded.  
  
A group of older children bowed and began their katas, more graceful but no less enthusiastic than the little ones. Some of the kids had been here as long as Ian. Their vibrant dancing of the Spring Breeze kata brightened the hall. A lanky strawberry blonde flew by them, a robin in flight. She reminded him vaguely of Kathy. He tried to place her. Mona? Monica?  
  
He grinned as thoughts of Kathy led to those of his own little prospective initiate. Lelia was already taking Gymboree classes, and would be old enough to join the dojo in a few seasons. He couldn't wait to teach her more than the rudimentary moves that he and Ian had turned into a game for her.  
  
By the time he finished wool-gathering, the next group, young adults about the age of his Luke students, had launched into a sophisticated version of the April Showers kata. Their moves were fast, controlled, and powerful, coloring the air around them with joy. These practitioners were clearly on the cusp of their full potential.  
  
They reminded Quinn of Ian when he'd first started coming to the dojo with him. Coltish enthusiasm, eagerness to please, natural talent -- it seemed there was nothing he couldn't learn, and the speed at which he progressed was jaw-dropping. Quinn was clearly meant to teach his star pupil, with Master Yodama's gentle wisdom guiding them both.  
  
Ian rose with him now, fifth and sixth Dan of the Young Masters group of devotees. They had chosen the Life Force kata for their centennial exhibition. The adepts flowed through their forms, ease in every motion. The precision of their movements, the grace of their flight, the serenity of their path -- all bespoke mastery.  
  
Ian and he were in a world all their own, despite the others dancing around them. Perfection mirrored in each move, they felt like they were basking in their first dance as newlyweds all over again. The two became one elegant line over the mat.  
  
He was so lost in his dance with Ian, he didn't even feel Master Yodama gazing at them benevolently, just as he had at their wedding dance. His quiet blessings had enriched their lives since they'd met.  
  
Ian's gymnastic background was evident in his confident leaps and spins, while his own decades of practice allowed him to keep up with his lad. Their connection was as tangible as the nubs on their gi.  
  
As they settled into stillness, more cheers lit up the room. Ian had an inviting drop of sweat on his temple, which Quinn would have licked off at home. His hair stood up in spikes, as it tended to after a workout. He resisted the urge to ruffle it; not only would that spike it all the more, but they had an audience of one hundred rapt observers.  
  
The Senior Masters followed them. Some had been members longer than he had been alive. As Master Yodama was fond of saying, "Age matters not" to these young-at-heart elders. Quinn knew them all; each had had a hand in teaching him through the years.  
  
Though Master Yodama was technically a Grandmaster, he'd told Quinn that he preferred his current title. Collegiality had deemed that he establish a council at the dojo, rather than running it himself.  
  
Quinn could only wish to be free of the strictures of both councils, Yodama's and Luke's. He remembered the days before the formation of the Dojo Council, when he could practice forms at any time of day or night. Now, the dojo had set hours, with doors promptly locked at 10 pm. He felt surrounded by rules and regulations, drowning out the constant quickening of life around him.  
  
He looked over at Ian. Nothing could dim his lad's bright spark. Surrounded as they were by their accomplished colleagues, Ian stood out like a beacon, at least to Quinn's enraptured eye.  
  
Exhibition over, they bowed deeply to Master Yodama, said their goodbyes to old friends, and headed home. Quinn was glad they'd taken the Audi today; all he could think of was their own private party. His hand didn't budge from Ian's thigh the whole ride home.  
  
Uniforms flung in abandon along a new linen path to the bedroom, they were ready to celebrate in record time. Must have had something to do with those aikido reflexes. They saved their best moves for these private katas.  
  
Quinn sat on his side of the bed, groaning as Ian straddled him. Lips and shafts kissed hungrily. Thighs sweaty from the kata eased their erotic glide. Murmuring soft nonsense, they concentrated on moves that would drive each other wild. He looked up at Ian, relishing his temporary height advantage as his lad put it to good use, kissing his lips into softness under Ian's own.  
  
He braced his hands beneath Ian's thighs, easing him up and down at the perfect pace. Words gave way to moans as twitches gave way to tremors. A rumbled "Laddie!" and he was coming over skin already damp with sweat and pre-come.  
  
He had just enough energy to grab Ian's slippery shaft and rub his callused thumb over the head. Ian's tongue drove deeply into his mouth as his lad came into his trembling hand with a muffled cry. He pulled Ian onto the bed, too tired to reach for a tissue. Seconds later, they were asleep in a contented heap.  
  
In their own personal code, passion and serenity were inextricably bound, just like the two of them. 


End file.
